


Sick day

by SweatersAndScarves



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Mycroft, Sick Sherlock, brotherlock, sick day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:20:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1606613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweatersAndScarves/pseuds/SweatersAndScarves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short fic, Mycroft always knows when sherlock is ill, his mind slips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick day

Red nose, hair damped to forhead, stumbling awkwardness (more so than usual), shoes knotted only once, crease on collar, and most prominent of all the clues, lack of snarky comments.

"Off to bed sherlock, no sence in infecting the other children" 

"What, are you talking about?" Sherlock asked, stumbling as he pulled his backpack over his thin shoulders. The intended sharpness of his rebuttal muffled by a stuffy nose.

"You're sick, my guess is the flu. It's not going around but every virus has a starting point" Mycroft replied ever calm, as he moved to place a hand on Sherlocks forehead.

Sherlock swung his hand to deflect Mycrofts, missing drastically, but still managing to stop any attempt to touch him. "Keep your filthy mitts off me" he mumbled brushing past Mycroft as he fled towards the door.

Mycroft placed a steady hand on sherlocks shoulder, only 12 at the time, he'd yet to hit his growth spurt, and the move could've stopped him even in full health. "You say you're fine I know you're sick, let's play deductions" Mycroft challenged.

"D-deductions" sherlock stammered, his mind raced for a quick way out, but his train of thought buzzed into nothing.

"Yes sherlock, deductions. You play fine in full health but in sickness? Your mind goes. Of course you could always save me the trouble, and take to bed now"

Sherlock shook his head, and slumped back into a kitchen chair, "lets get this over with, I have a test, or maybe I have two"

Mycroft sighed plucking a plate from the counter setting it in his brothers hands, "from this dish what can we deduce about our dear cook?"

Sherlock glanced at the plate, seeing nothing more than eggs, it took him a moment to even recal the type, scrambled.

"Well? Mycroft asked, foot tapping

Scrambled eggs scrambled eggs, "Scrambled eggs" sherlock muttered trying to find a competent thought

"The cook, Shelly, our cook, she decided to make... To make scrambled egg"

"Shelly broke her wrist, she's on leave, she would never make eggs in such a simple way, these are a product of my limited knowledge in the kitchen." Mycroft responded, "if you were in health you would have noticed right away"

"Debatable" sherlock mumbled

"I have egg on my sleve sherlock, it's time to head back to bed"

"But I-I have a-a-a" 

Mycroft helped sherlock up, sliding the bag off his shoulder "brother dear, it's time to take a sick day"


End file.
